Angels Cry When We Collide
by moon's the limit
Summary: In which Eames becomes one of the fallen to save Arthur.


**Title;** Angels Cry When We Collide (_title from "Angels Cry", but with a slight change_)**  
>Summery;<strong> In which Eames becomes one of the fallen to save Arthur.**  
>Warnings;<strong> supernatural, naked-ness, stalking / "observing"**  
>Disclaimer;<strong> if only. fffffuuuu—**  
>Notes;<strong> oh hai. it's another a/e supernatural story ~ Q uQ Sorry for the summary; I couldn't think of something, so that'll have to do for now. c;

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><p>Eames fingers brushed along the rim of the cauldron mindlessly. It felt warm under his fingers, for his body had emitted heat over the past hours he stood there, peering down at the unwavered water, watching.<p>

This had been his habit for quite some time: getting up, watching this particular man in the human world, then retire (because, being an angel, he didn't need food or sleep for that matter, but he needed to move around so that he wouldn't end up breaking his legs). Other angels in his area did this as well, but the difference was that Eames had his eyes particularly on a single figure instead of the human world itself. There was just something about this man that differed him from the others. Eames wasn't entirely sure what— maybe it was because he was interesting.

From the years Eames observed this fellow, he found out that the man was one of those businessmen that should not be messed with, but at home, he's nothing more than a child and a stereotypical American. For some reason, this attracted Eames to him.

The first time he set eyes on this individual, he knew that this man was different. He held his head high, his shoulders squared, nothing like a smile on his lips. He was decked in a full fledged suit, which looked absolutely promising on his frame. To others, he looked like one in a crowd; to Eames, he immediately became his sole study project.

At first, Eames assumed that the man was like other businessmen: sharp and precise. Oh, and he was, but there was another side to him as Eames found out as he continued to watch him. Once out of the suit and serious complexion, this man was rather naughty. Not necessarily in a sex-like case (though Eames wouldn't mind seeing that), but in a dangerous way. The individual he set eyes on lounged in his home, munching away on fast foods and watching game shows on his television or playing games. That was typical to most people these days.

But that wasn't all. As Eames found out a few months after inspecting him, this man was also some sort of hired hitman who got his business done in a timely and neat manner. He seemed to be specially trained for killing in that manner as well. In the eight years Eames had watched him, he could see the man's swift, wind-like moves. If the mark was asleep, he would slip in, not disturbing anyone, and would inject something into the mark. If the mark greeted him, he would lead him or her on until he got a chance to slip a bit of something into their drinks. If the mark did not greet him, the process was shorter and much easier to accomplish. This man was also fancy on guns and martial arts, which still entertained Eames to this point.

But what ultimately entertained him the most was that this man lived a double life: a top notch businessman mask over one of a hitman's. The figure's appearance only helped with the entertainment.

One of the first things that Eames noticed was how attractive this particular individual was. He had dark eyes that showed no traces of mercy when killing. His hair, a dark brown, almost black, was usually slicked back when he's out in public. His clothing were all suits or simple button ups and a tie. The face was carved into one of a delicate angel; his body and arse fit to any homosexual man's or heterosexual woman's dreams. Then again, Eames wouldn't be surprised if this man could turn any straight guys gay and any lesbians straight.

That was another thing that confused him. Eames knew that the person who he had his eyes set on was no younger than twenty-six. And yet, over the eight years he had watched him, not once had the man shown any interests in relationships. There were a few occasions in which he had taken women and men on dates, but from the looks of it, it wasn't anything more than a date. A couple of times, though, Eames caught him with a particular young woman, but he sincerely doubted that they were involved romantically.

So, technically, this man was single, and Eames was deliberately interested. The only problem was the fact that he's an angel and the man he was shamelessly viewing was a human. There was no way that a relationship could bloom. Despite the fact that Eames had been in many relationships before (ones in which never worked out) and that there were many beautiful men and women scattered about in this realm, he still found himself interested in a human.

He knew it was pitiful and that he should move on, because, after all, this man was bound to find someone, get married, then grow old and die. Which meant, in all terms, that Eames wouldn't have a chance to meet him unless the man became an angel and crossed the borders into his realm. Eames doubted that, though, because of the crimes the other committed, he was definitely getting sent to the demon realm if he didn't straighten up.

At that thought, the angel heaved a sigh and drew his fingers away from the rim if the cauldron.

He watched as the man tucked himself into bed and shut off the lights. A blissful sleep overwhelmed him moments later, leaving Eames with the sight of a beautiful man to watch over. He admired the young human, wondering how could someone be this gorgeous and not be taken? Whatever the reason, he had to wait to ponder over, for Yusuf, a friend he made during the first few days after he died and was sent here, greeted him.

"Watching him again?"

Eames immediately stirred the cauldron's enchanted waters with his finger to erase any trace of the sleeping figure. Yusuf knew his interests quite well, but Eames was still a bit embarrassed of it.

"Was," he answered in a quipped manner.

"You shouldn't get attached," Yusuf reminded for what seemed like the millionth time this year.

"I won't," Eames responded, patting the other angel's shoulder once.

"Seriously, Eames. If you're thinking about returning to the human world—"

"I'm not," sighed the Englishman, pulling his hand away. "I know I'm not supposed to hang onto life, and I'm not. I just take a fancy in this man."

Yusuf peered at him for a moment before nodding a bit. "Just making sure."

"Say, Yusuf, have you found out his name?"

"You've been stalking—"

"Observing," Eames corrected.

"—fine, observing him for years now, and you still haven't caught his name?"

The Englishman sniffed. "You can't _hear_ things, so all I could do was watch."

"And you didn't think of looking at his mail or any documents he might have?"

Eames blinked. Well, he surely didn't think of that, since the man himself was far too distracting.

"I'll take that as a no. I can send Mal in here. She specializes in information."

Mal was actually the first person that greeted him once he died, but she was well known among the angel realm, so she barely had time to visit, and vice-versa on Eames' part.

"If she's not busy, yeah." Eames managed a smile.

"Well, you'll need a reason why you want the information. I'll send her over in a jiffy."

As Yusuf wandered off, Eames pondered on what excuse he could make up, but in the end, he decided to tell the truth. Mal seemed like a person to detect lies, anyways.

She floated in moments later, her skin glowing in the soft sun's light. She greeted him with a smile, and like the first time he saw her, Eames found himself admiring her delicate body, her perky, round breasts, her naked form (in the angel realm, there were no such things as clothes, except for a few); she was the image of perfection.

Eames, on the other hand, was simply bulky, hairy on his chest and bit of his lower half, and had a few tattoos here and there. Compared to her, he wasn't what an angel was supposed to look like. He didn't have the glow, and he most definitely did not have the hairless, smooth skin. But on the bright side, he knew that he wasn't the only one that wasn't hairless, and that was some relief.

What wasn't a relief was Mal standing this close to him.

Eames preferred men, but there were occasions in which he tossed off to beautiful women, but here, in the angel realm, doing such or having any sexual relations was a sin (but of course, you always had the rule breakers; Eames was not one of them, surprisingly).

"Yusuf told me that you needed information. Who will I be viewing? The particular male you've watching?"

A blush bloomed on Eames' cheeks.

She knew.

"If that's not too much trouble."

Mal laughed, letting up the uneasy atmosphere. "I was wondering when you're going to call me out, but you must promise me something."

"And that is?"

"That you will not dwell on him. You mustn't be sad here."

Eames gave a jerky nod. "Of course. I know the consequences."

She gave him another smile before reaching over and touching the cauldron. Immediately, the sleeping man's image rippled out and steadied.

"What would you like to know?" Mal questioned, her fingertips hovering above the water.

"His name, his status— everything." As he said this, Eames tried ignoring the other's sincere look by watching his interest snooze.

"Mm, alright. His name is Arthur. He's currently 29. His birthday is February 17. Both his parents live in Kansas. His brother resides in New York. Anything else?"

Eames leaned against his cauldron slightly.

"When he dies, will he be here or the demon realm?"

"At the moment, the he belongs to the demon realm."

That was what he feared, but it wasn't like he wasn't expecting it.

"And when is his due time?"

Mal didn't answer right away, so Eames glanced up.

She was no longer smiling. Her lips were pressed into a firm line, her brows slightly furrowed.

Eames' stomach turned.

Obviously, there was a reason for her sudden change of expression and silence.

"Is it soon?" He feared asking that question, but now that he was sure, he wanted to know how long he had left to watch over this man.

"November," she responded moments later. "November 21."

"What's today?"

"September 7."

Less than a year. He had less than a year left.

A frown dawned over his features.

That wasn't a lot of time.

"We can't do anything to prevent it?"

"Don't try to prevent it. Whatever happens, happens. You can't change the future."

Eames gazed at the sleeping figure. Arthur looked so peaceful, and to think that his life would end in three months. He couldn't just stand and watch it happen. He _couldn't_.

"I want to prevent it." He gazed up to Mal, his eyes begging. "Please."

"We had an agreement."

Eames' clenched the rim of the cauldron. "That agreement said that I won't dwell on him and that I won't be sadden. When he dies, then—"

"There is the option of moving on."

At the sound of that, he scowled and turned back to watch Arthur. No matter how much he wanted to punch her, he couldn't, so he recoiled into watching the man and trying to calm down. How could he calm down, though, when he's now aware that the person he had observed for years on end was going to die soon? The death was going to hit him hard, and that, Eames was assure of it.

"Do you know the cause of his death?"

"It's not completely clear."

Eames' gaze flickered back to the female. "Well?"

She met his eyes. "Just let him live. That's his future. You can't prevent it."

He narrowed his eyes. "What's the cause of his death?"

"Eames," she stressed, placing a hand on his arm and taking a step closer to him on the cloudy floor. "Listen to me. Don't do anything rash. We're the dead. It's against everything to look back on life on Earth. This is your life now. There's always someone else."

Eames scratched the surface of the cauldron, removing Arthur from his sights. That was basically what he would be doing in a couple of months: erasing Arthur.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want him to die," he murmured. "Or if he did, then I don't want him to go to the other realm." He cupped his forehead and leaned against the cauldron. "There's absolutely nothing I can do?" His oceanic eyes turned back on the female, pleading almost.

"Nothing," she echoed.

Eames hand slipped off his face as he reverted his posture and stared at the water in the large pot. To think, just in three months, he would wake up and find nothing to do. Days would drag by slower. He would have to find another person to look after, but for right now, he didn't want to watch anyone else. Arthur was his sole interest ever since he died and was sent here. It would be hard trying to indirectly bond with another.

On the other hand, if Arthur was gone, then Eames would be more active in this society. What if what Mal said was true? What it he could find someone else that was more interesting than Arthur? He doubt it, though. There was just something about the other that drew him in, and he was drawn in enough to the point in which he became, as Yusuf kindly put it, obsessed. And here, Mal was telling him that Arthur was going to die soon. Eames couldn't sit around; it was like watching the brother you never spoke to, but watched over, die. Except, Arthur wasn't his brother, but that didn't mean that Eames didn't feel close. Oh, he felt the connection, all right. And the connection was still holding strong till this moment.

"I want to save him." The words slipped out of his mouth without a second thought, and he meant every syllable of it.

Hazel eyes grazed his own, stern, biting. Mal obviously did not approve. "You can't."

Eames wasn't giving in, though. "I will."

"You won't."

"I will," he pressed.

"You're an angel, not a human. There is nothing you can—"

"I've heard of fallen angels."

Mal's gaze hardened on him. "They were all kicked out for a reason."

"Then, kick me out. Let me return to Earth, grow old, and die again."

Her lips curled into a nasty scowl as the beautiful face carved into one of dissatisfaction. "You can't do that. Those who are fallen are banished from here."

"I can save him from dying at the age of 29."

Mal was now glaring at him, and honestly, it was absolutely terrifying, but he held his ground. "You weren't supposed to grow attach to a human. Those were the terms."

"I didn't," Eames scowled lightly. "I just ... want him to live longer. If he does, if you can prevent him from dying young and alone, I promise I will stop watching him."

Mal eased on her darkened face. She sighed and moved her hand away. "We can't do anything about it, like I said before. And I can not banish you. Think about what you just said, Eames. You offered to become the banished, the fallen. Once you die, you'll be shunned from here. We won't welcome you. You will have to enter the demon realm."

Eames' teeth lightly grazed his bottom lip. His brows furrowed ever so slightly, thinking.

He heard about the demon realm; it was unlike the angel realm. Instead of it be warm and light, it was cold and dark. Here, everyone lived in harmony. There, everyone lived in chaos. Here, an angel could live forever in his or her current form. There, a demon _craved_ to live. And finally, here, an angel could return to Earth by being banished, but once a fallen was killed, the fallen would drop into the demon realm and become one of them. There, if a demon successfully rose to Earth and was killed, then he or she would disappear forever.

Eames was risking this if he agreed to go along with it. Was it worth it? No, not really. Arthur was just one of the billions of humans out there. It just so happened that _Arthur_ was the one Eames chose to watch over and become interested in.

"Then, that's the chance I'm willing to take." His lips pressed into a line as he crossed his arms over his chest. He was not letting Mal win this fight.

"You will be banished," she repeated. "You won't be able to come back here again."

Eames unfolded his arms. He knew this was a risky chance. But Arthur, he couldn't stand and watch it happen.

His fingers danced across the enchanted water once more. Arthur stirred in his sleep, then rolled onto his side with a soft smile at the corner of his mouth.

"He's bloody gorgeous," Eames murmured, pulling his fingers back grip the rim of the cauldron.

Mal placed a hand in his shoulder as she stepped up beside him. "Let him go," she requested in a whisper. "Trust me. It's for the best."

Eames tried not to listen. "He's always amazing at everything he does. And the way he looks is breathtaking."

"Eames," she began once more, her thumb rubbing in circles against his shoulder. "I let my children and my beloved behind when I died." She moved her hand away. "But I can't stop you," she murmured. "I understand how it is to love to someone." She lifted her gaze and met Eames' eyes once more. "But realize that you are making a terrible mistake."

"Mal," he replied, taking her hand with both of his. "Thank you." He then leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You should go."

She removed her hand and nodded a bit. "Just reconsider."

He honestly did try to reconsider, but his mind was already made; he wasn't backing down now.

A few minutes after Mal exited, Yusuf returned, giving him a look that obviously showed that Mal told him everything.

"You're going back?"

Eames gave a slight nod.

Yusuf frowned. "Just to save a man?"

"Arthur," Eames corrected. "His name is Arthur."

Yusuf ignored the comment. "Why? You don't know him."

"I already made my decision, Yusuf."

"But you know—"

"Yes, I know the consequences, and if you want to help a mate out, go around and spread the rumor that I took advantaged of a sleeping maiden."

Yusuf blinked, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly.

"I didn't, honestly," Eames added.

The other closed his mouth, but before he could say anything, Eames began once more. "I'll be fine."

"But you still ... you'll end up in the demon realm."

"I'm aware. It'll be worth it, though." _Hopefully_. "Now, run along and tell the gossipers about this rumor."

"You just can't—"

"Go," Eames instructed, pointing to the cloud that shielded him from the rest of the realm.

Yusuf sighed. "You're making a mistake," he murmured before turning and walking out. Eames pushed that thought from his head and returned his gaze to Arthur who was still sleeping. "But you're worth it, darling."

— **ox — xo —**

It was only in a matter of hours that he was given instructions to see Fischer, the minister of the society he was in. Eames quickly swirled the water in the cauldron so that Arthur and whatever he was doing was erased from sights. After that, he proceeded to fly towards the supposed kingdom with two men accompanying him. Upon arrival, his feet touched the soft ground. Usually, he would dwell on how fluffy the floor was, but this time around, he ignored it as he was escorted inside.

There were many corridors that he walked through before he was shoved towards the ground in front of the minister. Eames played his card; he bowed and waited for the older angel to start.

"Did you or did you not take advantage of a young maiden?"

The Englishman peered up and smirked faintly. "I did, and it was delightful."

Fischer was not happy. "And who is this young maiden?"

He used the first woman that crossed his mind. "Mallorie Cobb."

"Bring her in!"

It only took a few minutes for Mal to be dragged in, her eyes stained with tears that Eames hoped was fake.

"Miss Cobb, did you or did you not get taken advantage of by Mr. Eames?"

"I did," she answered, choking on her sob.

She was playing along. He would have to thank her when he could.

"And why did you not report it after it happened?"

Mal fell to her knees, bowing. "I was scared, sir. He th-threatened me."

"Is that the entire truth?"

"Yes, sir," she answered shakily.

"Yes, sir," Eames echoed in a slight murmur.

Fischer's eyes snapped in his direction. "You are hereby banished from this realm! Get him out of my sights!"

Some sort of glee washed over him, but he kept his snark-like expression.

As he was escorted out, he caught Mal's gaze. She begged him not to to with her eyes; she told him that this was a bad idea, but Eames ignored the look (there was no use, anyways; the minister already made his decision).

He allowed himself to be dragged to the gate. There, he tried putting up resistance, and it went wonderfully. The gates opened, and the two guards shoved him out.

Immediately, he began to fall. He tried flying, but his wings were no longer on his back. They were almost gone.

His eyes squeezed close as he allowed himself to free fall. The wind teared him to pieces, or, at least, that was what it felt like. His breath was caught with the wind as well, sweeping him from breathing. For a moment, he thought he was going to die. When his wings disappeared and there was a clap of thunder, he was pretty sure that he was going to die.

Seconds later, he hit something hard. The force knocked any sort of oxygen from him. He didn't have a second to look around. He simply realized that it was pouring rain, and then, black consumed his sights. The pain that jabbed him began to fade along with his thoughts. He was quickly slipping out of conscious, and before he knew it, life seemed to have disappeared from his grasp.


End file.
